Editorial Reviews From School Library Journal Gr 5–8—The "Before" was when ZJ's football-playing father was "everybody's… next great hero," but to ZJ, world-famous "Zachariah 44!" was "just my dad… which means / he's my every single thing." For most of 12-year-old ZJ's life, Daddy was the very best parent, playmate, music-maker, nurturer, supporter, and more. But years of injuries on the field have been causing memory loss, sudden disconnects, and inexplicable anger. In the early 2000s, little was known about the debilitating consequences of chronic traumatic encephalopathy (CTE), a direct result of repeated concussions. For ZJ and his family and friends, "the Ever After" offers no cure. Guy Lockard's versatility elevates Woodson's already stupendous novel in verse, showcasing his emotional agility from the exuberance of "Before" to the roller-coaster uncertainty of during, all the way to the heartbreaking sadness and determined acceptance of "the Ever After." Nuanced, intimate, and empathic, Lockard again proves to be a gifted narrator. VERDICT Pair with Gordon Korman's Pop (expertly voiced by Nick Podehl) for additional literary illumination.—Terry Hong, Smithsonian BookDragon, Washington, DC Review * “Woodson's text may be spare, but it has the emotional wallop of an offensive tackle.”—Shelf Awareness, starred review* “Woodson’s latest novel in verse conveys that not all success stories have a fairy-tale ending. Readers will feel an immediate connection to ZJ and his group of authentic, complex friends and family. The idea of showing the dark side of fame through the experiences of a young family member is a unique perspective that will resonate with readers of all ages. ZJ’s story will stay with the audience long after the last page is read. A first choice for all collections. A unique take on sports and fame told from an unexpected perspective, and another incredible read ­delivered by Woodson.”—School Library Journal, starred review* “Using spare and lyrical language for ZJ’s present-tense narration, which moves back and forth through time, Woodson skillfully portrays the confusion, fear, and sadness when a family member suffers from brain injury and the personality changes it brings. . . . The well-rounded secondary characters complete a mosaic of a loving African American family and their community of friends. . . . A poignant and achingly beautiful narrative shedding light on the price of a violent sport.”—Kirkus Reviews, starred review* “Woodson delivers a poignant new novel in verse that highlights an important topic within the sports world, especially football. . . . ZJ’s life quickly turns from charmed to tragic as he has to face that his father and family are forever changed. . . . Woodson again shows herself to be a masterful writer, and her meaningful exploration of concussions and head injuries in football, a subject rarely broached in middle-grade fiction, provides young athletes with necessary insights into sport's less glamorous side. In addition to this, it is a novel that explores family, mental illness, and the healing that a tight-knit, loving community can provide.”—Booklist, starred review* “Woodson explores the impact of chronic traumatic encephalopathy (CTE) on football players and their families from the perspective of ZJ, son of tight end Zachariah ‘44’ Johnson. . . . In lyrical verse, Woodson conveys the confusion and loss that many families feel as they try to figure out what is wrong with their loved one. Each of the poems ably captures the voice of the story’s preteen boy protagonist; readers can feel the sense of love and loss that ZJ is experiencing as his dad slips away. Even though that loss is difficult, Woodson reminds readers that life’s challenges are more easily faced with the support of friends and family.”—Horn Book, starred review* “A beautiful and heart-wrenching story. . . . Eloquent prose poetry creates a moving narrative that reveals the grief of a child trying to understand why his father has changed and why nothing can be done. An ardent account of the multitudes of losses experienced by those who suffer from chronic traumatic encephalopathy and its effects on their families, ZJ's doleful tale unveils the intense nostalgia and hope one can feel despite realizing that sometimes what is lost can never be regained."—Publishers Weekly, starred review “This is a heartbreaking tale brimming with sympathy, and it draws much of its impact from the characterization of Zachariah’s father; while the portrait is obviously burnished by ZJ’s hero worship, it’s also clear that Zachariah Senior is a man of deep kindness and generosity who loves his son greatly, and whose decline leaves a huge hole in his fiercely close African-American family. ZJ’s move toward music and his increasing reliance on his friends are age-appropriate shifts that have particular poignance given the situation. While the football and CTE elements give this resonance for young athletes, many readers will be sadly familiar with the painful waning of a family member, and they’ll be heartened by ZJ’s love and resilience.”—The Bulletin of the Center for Children’s Books About the Author Jacqueline Woodson (www.jacquelinewoodson.com) is the recipient of a 2023 Guggenheim Foundation Fellowship, a 2020 MacArthur Fellowship, the 2020 Hans Christian Andersen Award, the 2018 Astrid Lindgren Memorial Award, and the 2018 Children's Literature Legacy Award. She was the 2018-2019 National Ambassador for Young People's Literature, and in 2015, she was named the Young People's Poet Laureate by the Poetry Foundation. She received the 2014 National Book Award for her New York Times bestselling memoir Brown Girl Dreaming, which was also a recipient of the Coretta Scott King Award, a Newbery Honor, the NAACP Image Award, and a Sibert Honor. She wrote the adult books Red at the Bone, a New York Times bestseller, and Another Brooklyn, a 2016 National Book Award finalist. Born in Columbus, Ohio, Jacqueline grew up in Greenville, South Carolina, and Brooklyn, New York, and graduated from college with a B.A. in English. She is the author of dozens of award-winning books for young adults, middle graders, and children; among her many accolades, she is a four-time Newbery Honor winner, a four-time National Book Award finalist, and a three-time Coretta Scott King Award winner. Her books include Coretta Scott King Award winner Before the Ever After, New York Times bestsellers The Day You Begin and Harbor Me; The Other Side, Each Kindness, Caldecott Honor book Coming On Home Soon; Newbery Honor winners Feathers, Show Way, and After Tupac and D Foster; and Miracle's Boys, which received the LA Times Book Prize and the Coretta Scott King Award. Jacqueline is also a recipient of the Margaret A. Edwards Award for lifetime achievement for her contributions to young adult literature and a two-time winner of the Jane Addams Children's Book Award. She lives with her family in Brooklyn, New York. Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. Memory like a Movie The memory goes like this: Ollie’s got the ball and he’s running across my yard when Dad comes out of nowhere,soft tackles him to the ground.Then everyone is cheering and laughing because we didn’t even know my dad was home. I thought you had a game, I say, grabbing him.It’s a half hug, half tackle, butthe other guys—Darry and Daniel—hop on too and Ollie’s escaped, so he jumpson top of all of us jumping on my dad. Yeah, Mr. J., Darry says. I thought we’d be watching you on TV tonight. Coach giving me a break, my daddy says. He climbs out from under,shaking us off like we’re feathers, not boys. Ah man! Darry says.Yeah, we all say. Ah man!Sometimes a player needs to rest, Daddy says. He looks at each of us for a long time.A strange look. Like he’s just now seeing us.Then he tosses the ball so far, we can’t even see it anymore. And my boys say Ah man, you threw it too far!while I go back behind the garage where we have a whole bunch of footballs waiting and readyfor when my daddy sends one into the abyss.Everybody’s Looking for a Hero   Once, when I was a little kid, this newscaster guy asked me if my dad was my biggest hero.No, I said. My dad’s just my dad. There was a crowd of newscasters circling around me, all of them with their microphones aimedat my face. Maybe I was nervous, I don’t remember now. Maybe it was after his first Super Bowl win, his ring new and shining on his finger. Me just a little kid,so the ring was this whole glittering world, gold and black and diamonds againstmy daddy’s brown hand. I remember hearing the reporter say Listen to those fans! Looks like everybody’s found their next great hero. And now I’m thinking back to those timeswhen the cold wind whipped around me and Mom as we sat wrapped in blankets, yelling Dad’s name, so close to the game, we could see the angry spit spraying from the other team’s coach’s lips.So close, we could see the sweat on my daddy’s neck.And all the people around us cheering,all the people going around calling out his number, calling out his name. Zachariah 44! Zachariah 44! Is your daddy your hero? the newscaster had asked me. And all these years later, just like that day, I know he’s not my hero,he’s my dad, which means he’s my every single thing.Day after the Game   Day after the gameand Daddy gets out of bed slow. His whole body, he says,is 223 pounds of painfrom toes to knees, from knees to ribs, every single hit he took yesterday remembered in the morning.Before the Ever After   Before the ever after, there was Daddy driving to Village Ice Creamon a Saturday night in July before preseason training. Before the ever after, there was Mom in the back seat letting me ride up front, me and Daddyhaving Man Time together waving to everyonewho pointed at our car and said That’s him! Before the ever after, the way people saidThat’s him! sounded like a cheer. Before the ever after, the people pointing were always smiling. Before the ever after, Daddy’s hands didn’t always tremble and his voice didn’t shakeand his head didn’t hurt all the time. Before the ever after, there were picnics on Sunday afternoons in Central Park driving through the tunnel to get to the city me and Daddy making up songs. Before the ever after, there were sandwiches on the grass near Strawberry Fieldschicken salad and barbecue beef and ham with apples and Briethere were dark chocolates with almonds and milk chocolates with coconutand fruit and us just laughing and laughing. Before the ever after, there was the three of us and we lived happilybefore the ever after.Daniel   In second grade, Daniel walked over to me, Ollie and Darry, said You guys want to race from here to the tree?When he lost, he laughed and didn’t even care, just high-fived Darry, who always winsevery race every time and saidYou got feet like wings, bruh. Then he got on his bike and we knew he wasn’t regular. He was fearless. Even back then, he could alreadydo things on a bike that a bike wasn’t made for doing— popping wheelies and spinning and standing up on the seat while holding on to the handlebars and speedingdown the steepest hills in town. Me, Darry and Ollie used to call ourselves Tripod cuz the three us came together like that. But when we met Daniel, we became the Fantastic Four. And even after he broke his armwhen he jumped a skate park ramp right into a wall, he didn’t stop riding.He said My cast is like a second helmet,held it high in the airwith the unbroken arm holding the handlebarsand then not holding them and Daniel flying around the park like some kidgravity couldn’t mess with.While me and Darry and Ollie watched him amazed. And terrified.ZJ   I used to wonder who I’d be if “Zachariah 44” Johnson wasn’t my daddy.First time people who knoweven a little bit about football meet me, it’s like they know him, not me. To them, I’m Zachariah’s son.The tight end guy’s kid.I’m Zachariah Johnson Jr. ZJ. I’m the one whose daddy plays pro ball. I’m the tall kidwith my daddy’s same broad shoulders. I’m the one who doesn’t dream of going pro. Music maybe.But not football. Still, even at school, feels like my dad’s in two places at once—dropping me off out front, sayingLearn lots, little man, thenwalking into the classroom ahead of me.I mean, not him buthis shadow. And me almost invisible inside it. Except to my boyswho see me walking into the classroom and sayWhat’s up, ZJ?Your mom throw any cookies in your lunch? Then all three of them open their hands beneath their desks so that whenthe teacher’s back is turned I can sneak them one.You Love a Thing?   Ever since I was a little kid,I’ve loved football, my daddy told me. Through every broken toe and cracked rib and jammed fingerand slam to the shoulder and slam to the head, I still loved it. You got something you love, little man? Then you good.You love food? You cook.You love clothes? You design.You love the wind and water? You sail. Me, my daddy said,I love everything about the game. Even the smell of the ball. Then he laughed, saidImagine loving something so much, you love the smell of it? It smells like leather and dirt and sweat and new snow.I love football with allof my senses. Love the taste and feel of the air in my mouthrunning with the ball on a cold day. Love the smellof the ball when I press it to my faceand the smell of the field right after it rains. I love the way the sky looks as we stare up at itwhile some celebrity sings “The Star-Spangled Banner.” Love the sound of the crowd cheering us on. When you love a thing, little man, my dad said,you gotta love it with everything you got.Till you can’t even tell where that thing you love begins and where you end.Who We Are & What We Love   Ollie divides fractions in his head,can multiply them too—gives you the answer while you’re still trying to write down the problem, knows so much about so much but doesn’t show offabout knowing. Darry—besides running fast, he can dance. Get the music going and my boy moves like water flowing.All smooth like that. Daniel’s super chill, says stuff likeYou okay, my man? You need to talk?And really means it. And really listens.Calls his bike a Magic Broom, spins it in so many circles we all get dizzy, but not Daniel,who bounces the front tire back to earth without even blinking,says That was for all of y’all who are stuck on the ground. Me, I play the guitar. Mostly songs that come into my head. Musicis always circling my brain. Hard to explain how songs do that.But when I play them, everything makes some kind of strange sense like my guitar has all the answers.When I sing, the songs feel as magic as Daniel’s bikeas brilliant as Ollie’s numbers as smooth as Darry’s movesas good as the four of us hanging out on a bright cold Saturday afternoon. It feels right and clear and always. Read more